


Marime

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-06-01
Updated: 2004-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:19:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is it possible that there are some places so dirty that they taint everyone who comes close to them?" (Nightwing #78)  Spoilers through NW #93.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Lucy

 

 

Bludhaven is cold. Bludhaven is rotted through from the inside out, letting in wind and smoke and rain and ash and dark. There's no point in staying, even if he still thought he could do some good. Maybe they can go somewhere warm after this. With Amy and Catalina's brother to sweep up the mess, no one will even be after them for their crimes.

It's deceptively quiet tonight, and he reaches for his transmitter out of habit. He'd broken the one in this mask even before the explosion, which was probably just as well. Sooner or later, Batman will demand an explanation for his behavior. No, not an explanation: Bruce has never been a man who relied on words. But he'll want penitence. Punishment. He can't imagine what it would be like, not having Bruce's trust anymore, and if he leaves maybe he'll never have to know. It's weak of him, but if he were strong, he wouldn't have blood on his hands in the first place.

There's a sharp gust of wind, and a sound like birds circling, and he's not alone on the roof.

"Nightwing," Superman says. "I found you."

Dick flinches almost involuntarily before he realizes that Superman doesn't sound angry. He sounds... well, _relieved._

"Your building's gone," Superman goes on when Dick doesn't respond. "Destroyed. I was worried. You're OK?"

"What were you doing at my building?" The thought of 1013 Parkthorne the way it used to be is like a hot knife between his ribs.

"I was over Bludhaven and I just checked on it. Habit. I always do that with my friends."

A month ago, he'd have loved the idea of Superman looking for him from above. His _friend._ Now the thought of it makes him sick.

"There was a bomb," he says curtly.

"How awful." Superman shakes his head in sympathy. "Was anyone hurt?"

"They're all dead."

Superman looks stricken, like John and Hank and the others were all his friends too. "God. I'm so sorry. Who would do something like this? Was it the Joker?"

"No." Dick can see the malevolent glee on Blockbuster's face more clearly than he can see the skyline. The memory slides of its own account into another: the sound of the gun, and the stench of it, and the stain. "Not the Joker. A man called Blockbuster. He's also dead." The word is stale and flat in his mouth.

Superman frowns a little bit at that. "That's too bad. It's always easier for the families if they get the day in court. Though something like this, there's never closure, not really."

His sympathy and his surety make Dick want to scream. He settles for staring down at the gravel embedded in the roofing, and kicks at it a little.

"What are you going to do now?" Superman finally asks.

"Do?" Dick shrugs. "Not much to do. The man's dead."

"Not about him." Superman walks a little closer. "About yourself."

"That's not important."

Superman's smile is gentle. "You know, you sound just like Batman."

"I'm nothing like him." Once, it would have been a boast.

"Look," Superman says, clasping his good shoulder, "I've lost friends, too. It's never easy. But you can't let it be what defeats you."

Dick wants to say something amusingly bitter, something mordant and harsh, something Superman will remember. But Superman's clear blue eyes, so sincere and concerned, have him fixed like a spotlight, and he can only manage the truth. "He was after me," he says.

"Oh, Nightwing." Superman reaches out and cups his face in one big broad hand. "I'm so sorry."

Dick tries to pull away, but Superman holds him gently but unmistakably in place. "Listen," he says. "This life... it's full of sacrifices. Full of regrets. People you love, and you can't -- sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you can't save them. Sometimes you even push them into harm's way, and you don't even know until it's too late to fix anything."

Superman's eyes grow unfocused, like he's looking at something far away, some five-car-pileup of a memory. Then they switch back to the present, and to Dick. "You were so young when you chose this life. You were... innocent. I used to wonder how you could stay like that in Batman's care, but nothing ever changed it. Finally, I realized it was your greatest strength. Your capacity for joy." Superman's thumb moves gently across his cheek. "I wonder now if it's also your weakness. You never let yourself look at how dark the shadows can really get."

"Is that so bad?" Dick manages. "Not to look?"

"Not at all." Superman leans in closer until they are almost forehead to forehead. "It just means you have to be careful where you step."

He is so close now that Dick can feel the heat of his breath, smell the sharp clean scent of his hair and his skin. He is everything Dick ever wanted or wanted to be, and it is just the slightest movement, a tilt of the head, for Dick to kiss him.

His lips are dry and his mouth is closed, but he doesn't move away. He just stands there with his hand on Dick's face and lets it happen, and that makes Dick brave enough to put his arms around Superman's neck and make the kiss more insistent. He opens his mouth and plays his tongue across Superman's lips. With a small sigh, Superman shifts against him and begins to kiss him back.

Long ago, before he'd even outgrown the first Robin suit, he'd asked Bruce to tell him what Superman was like. _He's like lightning_ , Bruce had said. _Thunder._ And as Superman's lips open to let him in, Dick finally understands what Bruce meant. Superman's mouth doesn't feel any different from any other man's as Dick's tongue investigates it, but his taste is different, sweeter and tinged with something like ozone. More than that -- as Superman sucks gently on his tongue, Dick can feel all the strength leashed inside this man, all the extraordinary power at his command, coiled just beneath the surface. Dick has stood by the man in battle and even flown with him, but in his arms like this, Superman is staggering: overpowering and bright and beautiful.

Superman's hand shifts to the back of Dick's head, twisting around in Dick's hair, and his other hand is investigating the waist seam of the Nightwing costume. There's nothing like hesitation in his touch, and it makes Dick gasp when he realizes he's done this before. The thought of Superman, naked and sweating, pounding into some other man -- God, into _him_ \-- and the feel of his uncalloused hand on the skin at the small of his back is almost too much for Dick; he feels like he might explode into a thousand pieces. The rough slide of costume against costume is vivid and scratchy, and it matches the buzz in his head. He's torn between wanting to get all their clothes off as soon as possible and just staying here like this as long as he can bear it, rocking just enough against Superman, soaking in his solidity and his grace.

He moves his hand down Superman's broad chest, circling around the nipple beneath the spandex. Superman gasps a little into his mouth, and bites at his lips. Dick lets his hand go lower. Superman is hard for him, and nothing has felt so good in days, nothing has felt so good in _months_. Dick pushes hard against him, and Superman moves eagerly into his touch. Feeling him respond, feeling Superman's cock twitch under his hand, is like a star bursting somewhere deep in his chest. Superman's hand slides down over the curve of his ass and he can't help moaning.

The sound seems to startle Superman, and he takes a half-step back. There is a wild look in his eyes, and for a moment Dick is terrified.

"Dick," Superman says. His voice is barely a whisper as he runs his hand across Dick's right cheek. "What are we doing?"

"It's OK," Dick coaxes. He steps forward to close the gap between them, but Superman stumbles away, wrapping his arms around himself protectively.

"No." Superman shakes his head. "Jesus. Dick. Nightwing. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. It's not that I don't -- I got caught up in the moment, but I shouldn't..."

Dick can almost hear Barbara, the morning after the fire, telling him that he had to leave. The bed had still been warm from their bodies, but she'd been awake for hours. "That's all right."

"Jesus," Superman repeats. He is talking to himself as much as Dick now. "I'm not like this. You know that. And, God, _you._ I've known you since you were a little boy. What kind of dirty old man must you think I am?"

"Nothing happened here that I didn't want," Dick protests, but he's not sure Superman can hear him.

"You're hurting. You're vulnerable. And I took advantage of that."

"No. Clark, _no_."

Superman's eyes widen a little at the use of his name. Dick had meant it for reassurance, but it seems to make things worse. "I... I need to go. Lois will be expecting me at home." He steps back to the edge of the roof. There is a guilty, haunted look on his face, and Dick hates the thought that he put it there. "Please, take good care of yourself, Nightwing," he says. "I'm sorry." And then he is gone.

Dick watches him fly away until he is swallowed up by the night. Dick has been at least half in love with Superman for as long as he can remember. Now when they see each other again it will be awkward and uncomfortable. Blockbuster destroyed so much of what Dick loves best in the world, but Dick is doing a fine job turning what he has left into ashes on his own.

"Dick?"

Catalina, at least, is still here. He turns to the stairwell door, where she stands framed in fluorescents.

"I should have known you'd be up here. Were you born on a rooftop?"

"Depends on what you mean by born."

"You're a strange one." She steps on to the roof, her hips swaying back and forth confidently as she comes closer. He's still half-hard, and she smiles when she notices. "For me?"

He doesn't say anything until she squeezes his cock through his uniform, and then the noise he makes shouldn't really count as a word at all. She sucks hard at the side of his neck, and he lets his head fall backwards. There are no stars in the sky tonight, at least none he can see from Bludhaven.

She presses in closer, and he puts his hands possessively on her hips. She likes this enough that she pulls them both down onto the rooftop; they've only made it to an actual bed once so far. They make quick work of the important pieces of their costumes, and soon he is inside her. She straddles him, gasping words of encouragement and desire, and he moves with her as much as he can. Catalina, at least, he can't drag down any further, can't damage or dishonor more than he already has. She's good for him that way. He licks his lips, which still taste faintly of something like ozone, and reaches up for her mouth.

*****

Note: "[Marime] has a dual meaning: it refers both to a state of pollution as well as to the sentence of expulsion imposed for violation of purity rules or any behavior disruptive to the Gypsy community."

 


End file.
